‘Thorne!  Thorne!  Thorne!’ shouted the sick man from his sick-bed, so loudly that the doctor heard him, seated as he was on horseback out before the house.

‘You’re to come back, whether or no,’ repeated Winterbones, with more emphasis, evidently conceiving that there was a strength of injunction in that ‘whether or no’ which would be found quite invincible.

Whether actuated by these magic words, or by some internal process of thought, we will not say; but the doctor did slowly, and as though unwillingly, dismount again from his steed, and slowly retrace his steps into the house.

‘It is no use,’ he said to himself, ’for that messenger has already gone to Barchester.’

‘I have sent for Dr Fillgrave,’ were the first words which the contractor said to him when he again found himself by the bedside.

‘Did you call me back to tell me that?’ said Thorne, who now felt really angry at the impertinent petulance of the man before him:  ’you should consider, Scatcherd, that my time may be of value to others, if not to you.’

‘Now don’t be angry, old fellow,’ said Scatcherd, turning to him, and looking at him with a countenance quite different from any that he had shown that day; a countenance in which there was a show of manhood,—­some show also of affection.  ’You ain’t angry now because I’ve sent for Fillgrave?’

‘Not in the least,’ said the doctor very complacently.  ’Not in the least.  Fillgrave will do as much good as I can do.’

‘And that’s none at all, I suppose; eh, Thorne?’

’That depends on yourself.  He will do you good if you will tell him the truth, and will then be guided by him.  Your wife, your servant, any one can be as good a doctor to you as either he or I; as good, that is, in the main point.  But you have sent for Fillgrave now; and of course you must see him.  I have much to do, and you must let me go.’

Scatcherd, however, would not let him go, but held his hand fast.  ‘Thorne,’ said he, ’if you like it, I’ll make them put Fillgrave under the pump directly he comes here.  I will indeed, and pay all the damage myself.’

This was another proposition to which the doctor could not consent; but he was utterly unable to refrain from laughing.  There was an earnest look of entreaty about Sir Roger’s face as he made the suggestion; and, joined to this, there was a gleam of comic satisfaction in his eye which seemed to promise, that if he received the least encouragement he would put his threat into execution.  Now our doctor was not inclined to taking any steps towards subjecting his learned brother to pump discipline; but he could not but admit to himself that the idea was not a bad one.

‘I’ll have it done, I will, by heavens! if you’ll only say the word,’ protested Sir Roger.

But the doctor did not say the word, and so the idea was passed off.

‘You shouldn’t be so testy with a man when he is ill,’ said Scatcherd, still holding the doctor’s hand, of which he had again got possession; ’specially not an old friend; and specially again when you’re been a-blowing him up.’